


lust; it’s only just

by PsychicBananaSplit



Series: after klaus got out of the mausoleum [7]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Ben Hargreeves' Tentacles | Bentacles, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Consentacles, Dry Humping, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Incest, It's Springtime Fuckers, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pseudo-Incest, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sunsets, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, V-shaped polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychicBananaSplit/pseuds/PsychicBananaSplit
Summary: Klaus sees Dave, and it leaves him with some unresolved feelings of sexual frustration. He can’t come back, however, Ben is always there.





	lust; it’s only just

**Author's Note:**

> wassup, fuckers.  
> i was gone for a while, but i came back, and brought p r e s e n t s.  
> enjoy yalls balls ;)

The only sound coming from inside the house was the scratching of a pencil. Ben’s heartbeat seemed loud in comparison, vibrating his chest with every thrum. His eyes were fixed on his sketchbook, careful, elegant strings of gray followed the sharp edge of lead.  _ Scratch, scritch-scratch, scraaaaaaaaaaaaatch.  _

This drawing spurred something within him. It was stirring, like a boiling pot of molten lava. Hot, tempting to the touch. His newfound obsession came to life on the page, and he couldn’t take his sight away.

Having to use his power, especially now, was exhausting. Ben had just learned to become corporeal on his own, using Them would be out of the question with his circumstances as such. Adding onto the fact that he never wanted to use Them again. He  _ hated  _ using it.  _ Despised  _ it. When he was younger, he would wake up in the middle of the night with Their whispers in his head and pain radiating throughout his body, centering in his stomach from holding Them in for so long. He would scream until Father woke, pounding on his door, yelling at him to open that door when he  _ most obviously couldn’t.  _

The dry rattle of him breathing shivered through his body, yelling above the scratching. He blinked, and looked out the window. 

It was a nice day out. The sun was shining, the sky was a nice crystal blue. Children were running outside the manor, jumping ropes flying along with blond, brown and black strands of hair. Some were wearing Nirvana shirts, others, faded NASA shirts. Some had thick-framed hipster glasses pushed up their noses and into the crevice between their eyes. Some were riding their bikes in circles on the sidewalk, attempting jumps and tricks. They looked happy.

What normal lives they’re living.

One of the kids on the bikes looked down the street, and whipped his head back around, his glasses reflecting the light towards Ben and blinding him for a slight moment. “Guys!” The rest looked over in sync, like a flock of pigeons looking out for a car. They dispersed, going in different directions as a certain group of people walked towards the manor. A large group of people.

The door creaked open loudly, and footsteps thundered inside the house. “Wassup, fuckers?!” Past Klaus ran up the stairs, past Diego and past Vanya following suit. Past Vanya changed a lot. With the new found freedom of their father’s reign, they all explored aspects of their personalities in self-expression. The three of them formed a band, dyeing their hair different shades and putting it in extravagant styles almost every month. Past Vanya’s hair is now a dark purple, simply cut to her shoulders, keeping her bangs. 

“Klaus, stop tracking mud in the house!” Past Allison really turned into a co-parent, with Mom. On missions, she takes most of the responsibility. 

Ben resumed his focus on his drawing, his hand moving almost automatically on the paper. He smiled slightly when he heard the light footsteps travelling to his room, and knocked on his closed door twice. “Ben? You in there?” There’s something strange about his voice, something-- off.

“Yeah, come in,” he said. 

Klaus opened the door and shut it with a soft click, gingerly putting his gloved hands in his pockets. He smiles just as stiffly, his eyes red-rimmed and wet. Ben frowns, shuts the book and sets it aside. “What’s wrong, Klaus?”

He laughs wetly, and Ben’s frown deepens. His brother looks like he’s going to cry. 

It’s an unusual look on the normally cheerful, bubbly, doesn’t-give-a-shit, gutter-brained brother. He kicks his legs out in front of him and lifts himself up, starts to move towards Klaus, and that’s when he remembers. 

Dave. “You saw him again, didn’t you?” 

To offer some explanation, Klaus has been having…. dreams. Of Dave. Flashbacks of the war, mostly. And those aren’t any good-- but, there are moments. Like in the middle of the day Klaus would see him, standing awkwardly in the corner before noticing that Klaus is staring, and he  _ pops  _ out into the dark chamber of Whatever. Or, when they’re on missions, he would yell at Klaus to get out of the way, or tell Klaus if there is someone coming after him. Afterwards, he would always come home bawling his eyes out, not even being able to stand up. Just lying there, on the cold wooden floors, sobbing his lungs out and Ben wasn’t able to help him. Partially because he didn’t know how to. And partially because he  _ couldn’t.  _ Klaus would be so devastated, depressed, that he wouldn’t be able to focus on Ben. 

The truly horrible thing, though, is that Dave almost never comes back for days on end after it ever happens. For weeks, Klaus would slave himself over his Tarot deck and his Ouija Board and his crystal ball thinking of Dave, but he would never come back. Unless it was by accident. And, since Ben could sense supernatural presences too, and Klaus would always ask him if it was intentional or not because he so desperately wanted to know, Ben would tell him the truth. Klaus would know if he lied, anyway. And it would  _ hurt,  _ physically  _ hurt  _ Ben to tell him that it was an unintentional visit. 

Klaus sobs. “Y-Yeah.” Ben hugs him. Klaus huddles himself into Ben, folding himself smaller and smaller, his eyes shattering into liquid pouring down his cheeks like a full water glass being thrown against a wall. Ben feels Klaus’ lips forming words against his shoulder, but they’re unintelligible right now. He zeroes in on his emotions, trying to pick them all out, one by one. The most expected ones, despondency, despair, anger, betrayal. It’s almost like dissecting his right brain, cutting it open and peering inside, all the creative ideas and the feelings floating out and into his own mind, linking them together for a split second. Tears spring to Ben’s eyes as he’s feeling what Klaus is, and he feels something unexpected.

Happiness, for one. Klaus was very rarely glad after one of his and Dave’s encounters, as blatantly said earlier. He smiles through the tears, as Klaus probably is. He nuzzles against the base of his neck and massages the small of his back.

However, another sense, more physical than emotional, fades into existence right before his very eyes. It causes him to thrust his hips forward to Klaus’ stomach, and he suddenly longs for any touch, any touch at all. Skin on skin is all that he can think of right now. He’s so entranced that he doesn’t notice right away that Klaus is rutting up against his thigh. 

The feeling is pure, concentrated lust, pointed directly at him like a gun. 

_ “Please,”  _ Klaus whines, low and deep in his throat, and Ben doesn’t mind that he’s doing this because of Dave.  _ “Please.”  _

He can’t seem to get the fucking words. Klaus, ever so vocal, right now can’t find anything in his mind that he could say.  _ Please, touch me. Please, blow me. Please, fuck me.  _ They all go flying past his brain, out of his ears. The tears of sadness have stopped now to be replaced by frustration and ones that come with being painfully turned on and trying to hide it for twenty fucking minutes. He grinds his hips harder against Ben’s leg, pressing his own knee to Ben’s crotch that forces a groan out of him. And Ben is pumping his hips with Klaus, adding friction to his rock-hard cock. Klaus whines, and keeps canting his lower half to the rhythm that they set like a rabbit in heat.

_ “Please,”  _ he keens again. It sends Ben into a pleasure-filled frenzy, and he pushes Klaus onto the bed with an animal-like growl. There are still tears in Klaus’ eyes, glistening in the late afternoon sun. His face is upturned, away from Ben’s, his neck flushed a brilliant red on his fair skin. His hands grab for the edge of the sheets, and he thrusts his hips into open air, begging for any pressure on his dick, straining against his jeans. 

Ben doesn’t pin him down, like he expected. Instead, he just stands there, admiring Klaus’ lithe, wiry body on his bed. His hair spreads around his head like a black halo against the white bedspread. He’s fully aware of his cock, fully erect in his sweatpants, but he can’t help but see how alike Klaus is to a sketch he was drawing just minutes before. Posing, like some satanic Jesus, on the bed, with his jacket unzipped and fanned around him like a dress. His nipples perky, his dick leaking through his pants with precum, surrounded in a nest of the same onyx curls. But what really took his breath away was his face.

Almost in perfect detail. His pink lips parted surreptitiously, ever slightly showing the red inside. His emerald irises sparkling with  _ need,  _ with  _ lust.  _ Like one of the seven deadly sins masquerading as a person. Of course, his drawing was never fully completed, let alone inked in with coloring. But this is the exact image he had been thinking of.  _ Exactly.  _

He’s still feeling Klaus’ pleasure as well, though it has been interrupted by a pang of annoyance. Ben smirks, and Klaus wonders  _ When have I ever converted him into this?  _

The ghost unconsciously moves his hand to palm himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, his eyes lowly lidded as he  _ moaned  _ Klaus’ name. It drives him  _ mad.  _ Absolutely fucking  _ insane,  _ what he’s doing to him. Of course, Klaus can always jerk himself off and cum just as fast as he wants to, but he  _ doesn’t want to do that.  _ He wants someone to eat him out, someone to fill him, someone to satisfy him with only  _ his  _ touch. He wants Dave, truthfully. After what happened during the mission.

* * *

 

 

_ “Ahh, ah, ahh, D-Dave, fuck, please, let me cum. Let me cum on your face, please,” Klaus says in a rush of air. His hands scrabble for purchase, only being able to grasp onto the edge of the bench he was sitting on. Dave was on his knees, between his legs, taking him in one go. Just that image was enough to make Klaus cum,  _ fuck.  _ His dark eyes were turned towards him, peering up at Klaus’ face innocently, as if he didn’t have his  _ dick  _ in his  _ mouth. 

_ With his thumb and forefinger, Dave squeezed the base of his cock, near his balls, so he couldn’t cum unless he let him. They have been going at this for a while now (Klaus didn’t worry much about the prospect of having to explain this to his siblings, at the time), and it was absolutely  _ torturing  _ Klaus that he hasn’t had his orgasm yet. It mildly bothered him that Dave has been touching himself the whole time, but hasn’t cum yet either. Otherwise he was indifferent, as horrible as that sounds. _

_ Klaus agonizingly keeps eye contact with Dave as the familiar building up sensation in his balls got bigger, larger, until he  _ had  _ to cum or else something would happen. Like his dick would explode, or something. His hands tighten their hold on the bench arms, and his arches his back beautifully. He tightens too much, and the wood snaps between his fingers, the metal bends, but either Dave didn’t notice or doesn’t care, because his throat convulses around Klaus and it’s so tight, and hot, and wet, slip-sliding around the thick appendage with his tongue and Klaus just can’t take it anymore.  _

_ Dave takes his mouth away from his shining cock and wipes his mouth with the hand that isn’t grasping it, laughing as he pulled the hand away to find that his mouth was covered in spit and precum. If anything, the fingers grasping the base of his dick press harder, and Klaus almost whimpers in pain. _

Almost.

_ “Hey, Klaus, it’s time to go!” Dammit, Diego. _

_ Dave smiles cheekily at Klaus, who, right now, looks pissed as all hell. “Well, I guess we’re going to have to go on from this another time, shall we?” Klaus tries to reply quickly, but Dave is already gone. _

_ “Fuck,” he draws out the vowel, scrambling in a mad dash to pull his pants up and re-buckle his belt. He hasn’t came yet, and his dick is prominently standing between his legs like the Eiffel Tower of southern Klaus.  _

_ “Fuckity fuck fuck. Fuck!” And this is the time where Klaus starts to cry, uncontrollably. Fuck, he can’t stop it. His chest heaves with sobs, and his erection dims down slightly. The Nile practically runs down his face, and he can’t ever stop this from happening. He doesn’t even know  _ why  _ it happens. It just does. _

* * *

 

 

Ben dips his hand inside the cavern of his pants, and sighs as his clammy hand touches bare, sensitive skin. Klaus can’t get himself to do the same, his eyes are trained on Ben. He’s painfully hard, his body weirdly sweaty in places, and the whole of it feels  _ way  _ too hot, but he can’t move. 

Ben’s face flushes, his teeth dig into his lower lip, his eyes close completely. His hips gyrate, thrusting into his hand. He opens his eyes and he keeps them that way, staring heatedly at the man splayed on the bed. 

“Ben,  _ fucking Christ,  _ please, just,  _ fuck me.”  _ Klaus shuffles uncomfortably on the bed, turning his face to the side and showing off more of his flaming neck, and, God, whatever he does to Ben he surely doesn’t deserve it. 

Ben all but pounces on Klaus, devouring his mouth into a savage kiss, grappling at his throat and  _ squeezing,  _ his hips worming around on top of Klaus’, brushing their clothed lengths in a flurry of motion. Klaus  _ wails  _ when he lets him breath, and fucks himself against Ben’s dick, faster, faster, faster, harder, harder, harder,  _ fuck, _ and he’s  _ cumming.  _ The wet stain in his pants grows, and he turns towards the wall as he’s panting from overexertion, his mouth wide open and his eyes shut blindly, his arms grabbing Ben’s shoulders to keep him from sliding off the bed. 

But he keeps fucking himself onto Ben. He spasms his hips onto Ben’s. And Ben responds just as roughly, meeting wanton thrusts with his own, and Klaus sighs his name every time.

“Ben, Ben, Ben, oh,  _ God, Ben, please,  _ make me cum. Again. Please, I need you inside me, I want you to--please, Benny, please, please,  _ fuck me,  _ Benji, I  _ know  _ you can. Please, please, please,” he whines. He doesn’t even know what it is he’s pleading for, he just knows that he  _ needs  _ it, and fast. Ben inches his pants down, showing a soaking pair of black briefs, stained white. He slithers down, until he’s facing Klaus’ clothed cock, and takes the tent in Klaus’ boxers into his mouth. Klaus gasps and cards his fingers through Ben’s soft, feather-like hair, and pulls. Ben’s moan vibrates around his dick, and he tries to thrust deeper. The person between his thighs, however, pulls his mouth off of him just as fast as he had it on and presses open-mouthed kisses to the inside of his thighs. Klaus whines again.

_ “Teasing bastard,”  _ he growls, and Ben chuckles, nibbling a mark into the soft skin. 

“I learn from the best.” Klaus sends an angry stare down at him.

Ben does his clever half-smile and pulls himself up to Klaus’ face and slips the jacket off of his shoulders.  _ Clothes, off, yes. Yes, yes, yes, fuck yes.  _ And Ben continues, sliding his his hands over his now-bare shoulders, his spine, his rib cage. Klaus shivers. Something under his skin was quivering with need, a trembling earthquake inside his bones, in his soul. The gatekeeper’s hands venture further down, and just at the point where the wetness of his undergarments gets uncomfortable, his fingers dip under the elastic and pulls them down in one fluid motion, freeing his leaking penis. As soon as the cool air from the open window hits it Klaus lifts his neck into an arc, thrusting into nothing and gasping. Ben’s already almond-shaped eyes narrow, black eyes even darker, hungry and predatory. Klaus takes one look at him, and his brain jumps for something to say;

_ “Fuck me like the animal you are, Ben.” _

He says it in such a sultry tone, he’s so, so needy, his head is so fogged with lust that he almost doesn’t realize what he said. His mouth and eyes snap open, ready to apologize for being such a dick when Ben jerks upwards and kisses him, teeth clacking together unpleasantly, propelling his tongue down his throat but  _ oh my god it isn’t his tongue.  _

A violet tentacle plunges deeper in his throat, sucking around his lips and in his throat, choking him slightly before his trachea rebels and forces it out, coughing the limb out with spit flying.

Klaus was so caught up in getting himself off that he didn’t notice that Ben was humping one of the tentacles, his sex almost crying with cum spurting out in rapid staccato on the floor, on his clothes, splashing onto Klaus’ face,  _ fuck.  _ He licks the spotting of sperm on the left edge of his lip, the pink end of it flicking out and Ben just  _ stares at it,  _ and he is still milking his own cock, the suction cups on the tentacle around it giving him the feel of a tongue writhing around, of a mouth suckling on the head and a hand massaging his balls. And that’s when Klaus realizes that he  _ came  _ from what he  _ said.  _

“Fuck, Ben, Jesus,” he said, breathlessly. His hips unconsciously nudge against Ben’s into a slow rhythm, steady ruts against each other’s half-hard cocks, arousal sparking up their spines with every contact of skin on skin. The tentacles have gone back, back into Ben’s stomach with a flick of Klaus’ chin.

Low moans and gasps fill the room, and the wet noise of their cocks sliding together is almost louder. Ben’s forehead rests against Klaus’ as he reaches his sopping fingers to his ass, prodding two inside and filling Klaus deliciously, squelching noises ensuing. His fingers search around, and Klaus whimpers. Deeper, deeper, deeper, and it hits his prostate and Klaus lunges his ass at Ben, his hard-on waggling in front of him and tempting him  _ too  _ much. With the noises they’re making, Ben thinks he hears someone outside of his room shout that they’re sick assholes, but he barely cares.

Klaus, high from his pleasure, doesn’t really know when exactly Ben stops fingering him and starts _fucking_ him. With his hands at his face and his tongue on his cheek and his cock in his ass, he doesn’t fully know. There is a pillow right beside his head; he grabs it, resting his face against his damp forearm, panting out _ah, ah, ah, ah, ah_ into the pillow to the beat of Ben’s movements. What he does know, however, is that when he’s rocking along with Ben’s thrusts plowing into him he sees Dave jerking himself off in the corner. He moans his name, Klaus thinks, and Dave must’ve been doing that for a while because his dick shoots cum halfway across the room when he does. When Dave cums, it’s beautiful. If Klaus could paint, he would do so, painting a landscape portrait that’s the size of the largest wall in the mansion of Dave’s face, red in the cheeks and his eyes closed in ecstasy. Cum flying in mid-air and already on his face, into his mouth, licking his own cum off of his own face and it would be right there, on the wall, so everyone would be able to see. _God,_ how he would love to be able to do that.

Ben growls, and sets a faster pace, rabbiting for his own release, making eye contact with Klaus for one more time. Klaus’ green has a spark of blue flame, shining and pure. Filthy, filthy, filthy.

Ben was picturing what them having sex must look like. Sweaty bodies mingling together into one, writhing on a bed, skin glowing and rippling with willowy muscles and tan skin on one side, wiry muscles and pale, ashen skin on the other. Then he switched positions.  _ Klaus’ _ hands roaming  _ his  _ skin,  _ Klaus’  _ tongue slurping the cum off of his stomach,  _ Klaus’  _ nine inches hitting that spot inside him, his puckered, rosy asshole just  _ thirsting  _ for it. He zoomed in on that image, a close up of Klaus’ dick inside him, and he lets loose. He’s cumming far inside Klaus, his name on the tip of his lips and pouring out. He  _ purrs,  _ he  _ growls,  _ he  _ yowls  _ out his release  _ like the animal that he is,  _ and he’s fairly certain that everybody in the house can hear him. Klaus is vibrating beneath him, and white painting the canvas of his hips, thighs, chest, Ben’s as well, and he’s thrown back to the picture he had been drawing. 

Klaus wails, throwing his head back and arching his spine and gripping so hard onto Ben that red crescent moons appear on his back, digging into his shoulder-blades, draws lines of crimson across the tan skin. He slips out of his ass, his cock aching from the tight hold it had on him, and they both sit up against the wall for a while, and simply just  _ breath. _

* * *

 

 

They’ve both settled down, they’ve both showered. Neither get out of the room, not wanting to tell the whole story of their sex to everyone and explain what was happening. The sunset fades from sunshine yellow to golden orange to deep vermilion to the purple of the tentacles. Klaus is lying on the bed, face-down basking in the cooling evening air with a towel covering his torso. He has a hand rested on the other’s lap, tracing circles into the skin. Ben is sitting next to the wall cross-legged beside him, carding fingers through unruly hair. A question lingers in his mind, the soothing act forcing him to delve deep into his own thoughts. His hand stuttered it’s movement through Klaus’ hair and Klaus turns his head to look at him.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Klaus narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

“Thinking. You’re too loud, by the way.” Right, like he could ever forget Klaus’ telepathic tendencies. Ben took his hand away and rested it in his lap with the other, looking up at the ceiling instead of at Klaus. A few beats of silence, followed by Klaus;

“Are you okay with this? Like, me being with you and Dave at the same time?” Ben blinks and looks back down at Klaus. Two inquisitive pairs of eyes meet.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not interested in him, if that’s what you mean,” Klaus shakes his head profusely. “But I like you, Klaus. I think this  _ could  _ last.”

Klaus smiles, a  _ real  _ smile, and out of all the artwork that he has seen, or made, that has got to be the best piece Ben has ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> f i l t h y a n i m a l s  
> is what diego yelled in the hallway. you know, when ben thinks someone heard them from their room? yeah.   
> filthy animals indeed, diego.


End file.
